Shades of Gray
by Rae TB
Summary: Black is just black, that is fact. White is just white, that is fact. Gray is unknown, that is fact. Brooklyn is painted in shades of gray, and that is fact. Reflective piece about Brooklyn and how the line between black and white blurs.


Alright...here's the deal: prepared to be confused. This thing is filled with double meanings...so read carefully, and try to analyze but not overanalyze certain aspects. See if you can figure out what white, black, and gray stand for...then it should be quite easy. The problem is, each stands for more than one thing...so tread carefully...and keep in mind that even if it doesn't seem like it, this whole thing is about Brooklyn.

* * *

Sometimes, the world was black like ink oozing evil wherever it pleased. A blanket of darkness would cover every detail Mother Nature had to offer. Nothing could be seen underneath the shadow of the night when this occurred.

Sometimes the world was snowy white and shined with a pure innocence all of its own, glittering like a pearl. In those cases light streamed down upon the land below radiating from the glowing orb called the sun.

However, for the most part, the world was painted in shades of gray. They varied in hue ranging from an almost white, to an almost black. But almost wasn't the same, it wasn't enough. No matter how hard gray tried to become white, black, or anything else...it would always be gray. It couldn't change what it was.

Brooklyn couldn't blame it for wanting to be what it was not. Black was black plain and simple. It stood for darkness, evil...it could be mysterious but whenever someone said the word black, everyone else knew exactly what they meant. There was no hidden meaning, no question how dark or light it was; it was just black.

The same held true for white. White represented purity, goodness, prosperity, and serenity. It was never mysterious in the least, and whenever someone said the word white, everyone else knew exactly what they meant. There was no hidden meaning, no question how dark or light it was; it was just white.

Black was black.

That was fact.

White was white.

That was fact.

But where did that leave gray?

Gray represented the indefinite. The only thing certain about gray was that nothing was certain. Whenever someone said the word gray, no one knew exactly what was meant. What _shade_ of gray? How dark? How light? There were a thousand possibilities and when those were exhausted, there were thousands more.

Black was night.

That was fact.

White was light.

That was fact.

Gray was the unknown.

That was fact.

When he was born, Brooklyn had been nothing but pure white like all other newborns. No one could stay white forever though; every baby became a child that would stain their soul with black. But Brooklyn's darkness would not be a tiny spill upon his goodness. Bitterness and hatred would soon brew within him, attempting to tarnish all else. The white within him was too dominant to let that happen. The evil was taking advantage of Brooklyn's pain for its own expansion, and the forces of good would never have that.

When he became a teenager, Brooklyn was made up of a perfect balance of black and white or at least, he had been. For a while the two opposites had stayed separate and when it was like that, there had been no problem. Black was just black and white was just white. The Brooklyn that the world saw was the untainted white, but beneath the surface laid the hostile and sinister black. Everything had been so clear back then. Life had been white and black and that was it. The future seemed so certain...He would always be alone, he would always ache inside hiding his pain from the outside world, and he would always win.

That was fact.

But black and white were too different to exist together in harmony, one had to overpower the other, or they had to become one. For a while it seemed neither would come to pass; the two colors and what they stood for would reside together. White would be there whenever Brooklyn enjoyed the outdoors, and black would be there whenever there was a beybattle. Both were satisfied to a certain extent. But unrest soon settled within the hearts of Brooklyn's two sides. It wasn't enough to be in control only some of the time.

To black, white was weak. To white, black was an abomination. Each thought they knew what was right for Brooklyn and so they waited until a chance to take over would arise. Neither black nor white ever benefited when Brooklyn won. Needless to say, they were disinterested in Kai. Brooklyn's victory against the phoenix had done nothing to shift the war one way or another. There had been no surprise that their host Brooklyn won, Brooklyn _always_ won. Kai couldn't be used to benefit either side, or so they thought.

But then it happened.

Brooklyn lost to Kai and the black and the white began to blur and conflict more than ever. Fact had told Brooklyn he would win. Fact had told Brooklyn he was a genius, an elite, a prodigy, and an invincible. Fact as the youth knew it was becoming fiction, and everything around him was shifting. His fate was changing, and the colors in which he viewed the world were changing as well. The line between black and white was no longer obvious. Nothing was obvious. The two parts of a whole, the contradictory sides were fusing to become one entity. They could no longer exist separately within the same boy; the powers that be would not allow them to.

Brooklyn's fate soon took a turn however; black began to overpower his heart pushing away everything else. But there was still a thin layer of white on the surface that was keeping its opposite from killing the things dearest to it. It was inevitable that black would try to break free of what wholesomeness was still within Brooklyn and conquer over good once and for all. Brooklyn had hurt all his life and his dark side would make sure it would never happen again. Black would protect his host at all costs. Even if his other side wasn't willing to sacrifice a few lives to keep Brooklyn safe, he was. It was inevitable the two forces would clash. The ultimate battle between black and white was about to take place.

White wouldn't wage this war alone. White had a powerful ally; it had Tyson, it had friends. Black was emptiness...black was loneliness. White was a gentle embrace, a caress of the face, and a warming of the heart. White was friends, love, and peace. But right now, white was dying, succumbing to the dark.

For a while it had appeared that dark would win over light. There would be no white, no gray, nothing but pitch black despair. At some point in the battle, the two sides separated. Now, no one was winning once again they were alienated equals that if put together, could form a whole person. White had returned once more. But once again the line between black and white, good and evil was blurring and Brooklyn found that one had become the reflection of the other.

As the battle continued, Tyson caused the black to fade and meld with its counterpart. Tyson's white had overpowered Brooklyn's black. Nothing was as simple as the color black was now, even black couldn't exist without white at this point. It was over now; the end of the battle was at hand.

A scream and then...

White.

Everything was white.

The youth was brought back to reality as his eyes snapped open and he gazed at the world around him.

It wasn't black.

It wasn't white.

It was _gray_.

Brooklyn sighed and shut his eyes once more, in an attempt to collect himself. Life was never meant to be clear cut one way or the other. Never again would it be as simple as black, or white. One could not exist without the other.

Black needed white.

That was fact.

White needed black.

That was fact.

Gray needed both to exist.

That was fact.

Black was black.

That was fact.

White was white.

That was fact.

Black was night.

That was fact.

White was light.

That was fact.

Gray was the unknown.

That was fact.

Brooklyn's soul was painted in shades of gray.

And that was fact.


End file.
